Halamshiral: The End of the Long Journey
by banalnadas
Summary: The Inquisition is growing, but the inner circle remains closeknit, and some are closer than others. For some time, Dorian has been flirting with Solas, trying to make him flustered (claiming that he finds it adorable) and, slowly, Solas has warmed up to the idea of the Tevinter mage. Still serious, still trying to save the world...
1. Chapter 1

1.

It was… late. Solas wasn't sure of the exact time, but he rubbed his eyes in exhaustion. They were itchy and watery from reading for the past few hours and, as he stirred at his table, his muscles ached. He was reminded, again, that he certainly wasn't the elf he used to be. He stretched, standing, and picked up a few books from the table, intending to return them. His body needed to loosen from sitting from so long, and he was actually interested to see if anyone else was awake. With all of the research going on recently in the wake of the discovery of the Elder One's identity, it was entirely likely.

His feet made soft noises as he padded up the stone stairs, but he made no attempt to silence them further. He wouldn't wake anyone, and that was just about all he cared about at the moment. When he finally reached the top of the tower, he began the short walk around the way to the shelves where he kept the books for his research. He placed the books back in their place, one at a time, ears perked to any sort of noise from anyone else still awake.

It was a moment, but then he heard a page turn. Someone was awake, then, he mused to himself, and, despite himself, he was curious. He went to peer into the next alcove, and found Dorian almost in shadow of the stack of books on the table beside him, not to mention the ones on the floor. The other mage didn't even look up, or seem to notice that Solas was there at all, so Solas watched him for a moment or two, and then stepped in, picking up the top book from the stack.

Dorian visibly jumped, free hand gripping the arm of his chair and taking in a deep breath. "Andraste's ass, Solas," he cursed quietly, forcing himself to relax. "You can't just do that to a man."

"Apologies. You seemed to be enthralled and I didn't wish to disturb you," he replied in a quiet voice, looking down at the book in his hands, some history book on Denerim, before his eyes rose back to Dorian. "I didn't expect anyone else to be awake at this hour."

"I don't think anyone else is," Dorian replied, standing and snapping close the book he had been reading. "This library is terribly underwhelming. I can't find anything of use."

"What is it you are researching?" Solas wondered, turning to follow Dorian as he placed the book back a bit angrily onto the shelf.

"I was trying to find something, anything really, on Corypheus, or the magisters that supposedly went into the Black City so long ago. So far, I have recovered almost nothing, or rather, nothing I didn't already know." He sighed, turning and leaning against the bookshelf, arms crossed but eyes on Solas. "I did read Varric's take on the whole matter with Corypheus in his book. He seemed to think he was dead. Done deal."

"Hearing the tale, its hard to believe that anyone would survive that," Solas agreed easily, his feet shifting a little, attempting to get comfortable. "But if he is truly a darkspawn—"

"He could transfer himself like an archdemon," Dorian finished, and Solas nodded an agreement. "Any of the wardens present could have been suspectible, including that mage that Hawke had brought along."

"Anders. It would explain his actions at the Chantry," Solas said, and Dorian waved his hand, as if to get the thought away from him.

"I doubt it, though. He would be too close to everyone, and considering his relationship with the Champion… its doubtful that she wouldn't notice a change." He smirked through a shiver. "Could you imagine? I… don't want to think about a darkspawn sharing a bed with the Champion of Kirkwall."

Solas laughed lightly, an easy smile over his lips. "Indeed. And seeing as he survived, I am sure he was smarter than to go that route. He certainly seems like it."

The Tevinter mage smiled softly, eyes on the elf. "I'm sure you didn't come here to talk about all of our worst nightmares," he said in a light tone. "Actually, I'm surprised you aren't sleeping."

"Like you, I was up doing research downstairs," he said in response, leaning against the bookshelf across from Dorian. "With the Inquisition's resources, I can finally read other's research without feeling like a thief. Maybe I'll finally write some of my own. Maybe."

"_Do_ you intend to write of our adventures? I know I probably will, no matter how it ends," Dorian replied, arms uncrossing and falling, hands intertwined. "Well, obviously not if I die, but you get my point there, yes? I'm desperately trying not to."

Solas couldn't help a light laugh. "If something does happen, I'll visit you in the Fade, and I will write your story for you," he said, his voice light but sincere.

"A noble offer," Dorian said with one of his light and short laughs. "Hopefully I'll never have to take you up on it." He shifted a little, and silence fell over them, but it was far from uncomfortable. Their eyes met, and he cleared his throat a little, but didn't speak.

Slowly, Solas's ears began to turn pink at the tips, and he had to look away. His eyes fell to the stack of books on Dorian's table, and he returned to them. He was determined to not break the silence, but not make it any more awkward, either. He had a strong feeling that he was failing. His fingers fell along the spines of the books, pausing on a halfway destroyed copy of a history of Halamshiral. He was surprised to see it, actually, so he tugged it out, blowing the dust off of the cover.

"I asked Leliana about that one," Dorian said, moving from his place at the bookshelf to come closer, up on Solas's left side, head tilted as he looked at it. "She said that it was here before they started to assemble the library. I haven't had much chance to try to decipher it. You actually might have more of an aptitude for that than I."

"Possibly," the elf replied quietly, opening up the ripped cover with very gentle fingers. He could feel the history seeping out of the pages, and Dorian's eyes on him, half in eagerness to know what it contained, and half, it seemed, in an eagerness to be close to him. "I can work with it, maybe write a translation for your benefit?"

"I would appreciate that, actually. There might be something in there that could be useful, if nothing more than to confirm and validate other histories of the time," he said, and his fingers crept out softly, pressing the book closed again. Dorian was bold, but with Solas, he was careful, as always. Their skin barely touched. "Tomorrow, though, or rather, later today. I've never seen you look more exhausted."

Solas couldn't deny this, or how that touch only made him become redder. "Thank you," he said, in an absence of anything else to say, and as he looked up at Dorian, he saw that he was smirking, like he wanted to say something witty about the elf's clumsiness. Solas attempted to think of anything else to say. "In truth, I haven't been sleeping much, or very well lately, since we got here to Skyhold."

"Wasn't this place your idea?"

"True, and I have come here before, but it was different then. Empty of all but the spirits that I talked to in the Fade and saw in the memories. Now, its so loud. There are so many people, and their problems pile up, clouding the serenity and charging the air with their passion."

"Their… passion hmm?"

Solas clutched the book harder in his hand. "Passion… in many different forms," he confirmed.

"Its good to have passion, Solas," Dorian said, messing with a leather buckle at his shoulder. It seemed to be cutting into his skin. "But… I know what you mean. The world gone to shit and sleeping soundly never seem to go well together." He paused, eyes back up from his leather and onto Solas once again. "If you ever wish for company… perhaps it would help. I know it would help me."

Solas stared at him for a long few seconds, and finally blinked a few times. "I see. It is certainly something to consider." Dorian visibly deflated, and as he moved to take a step away and offer an apology, Solas spoke again. "I never thought about having a fellow mage, even one such as yourself, by my side as I slept. Would it help?"

"I doubt it would hurt," he replied, taking a slight step closer. "Unless, of course, you're into that sort of thing."

Solas chuckled warmly, shoulders swaying slightly as he looked up at him. "That depends; are you?"

A surprised laugh caused the elf to grin. "For you? I might just be," Dorian said, tugging softly at one of the elf's ears. "I think… we are delirious from lack of sleep. You can warm my bed tonight; saves me the trouble of finding someone for a hot water bottle."

"Is that the reason," came the amused response, "Dorian?"

"It certainly is a factor," he replied, hand on his cheek as he took a step back, towards the door, and then let it drop. Solas followed, still clutching at his book.


	2. Chapter 2

The way wasn't far, actually, down the tower to the quarters just below. Despite himself, and his obvious nerves, Solas found himself curious about what his quarters might look like. Books maybe? Elaborate posters hanging on the walls? Pillows stacked up and strewn about like in an exotic palace? Whatever it was, it was sure to be more comfortable, and probably more elaborate, than his own simple quarters.

He wasn't disappointed. Even in the dim light from a candle that a servant, no doubt, had lit, the room was full of colour and life. The bed was tucked away in a corner, headboard at the window, to make room for everything else. There were books, of course, and from where they were peeking out from boxes, it appeared that House Pavus had delivered them for their son. A few staves were leaning against the walls, and one laid upon a table, leather wrappings half off, mixtures glistening in bowls beside it.

Solas closed the door behind them. It had only been a few seconds, and yet Dorian still looked slightly on edge. He tried to hide it, it seemed, by walking over to a standing wardrobe and pulling it open. Solas watched as he unstrapped his armour and hung it up carefully, but with much practice, then his boots.

"Make yourself at home," Dorian said, glancing around at where the elf was still standing by the door.

"I will attempt to," he replied quietly, opting to place down his book on the table to pick up one of the mixtures. "You're studying alchemical enchantments?" He wondered, swirling the mixture about.

"Well, its certainly an attempt," Dorian said, his voice slightly mocking. "Yes, I did some back home, so I was working to improve the staves we have here. Plus," he said, coming over to Solas, hand under his to pull him to the candlelight. "Look at that colour. Have you ever seen a richer blue?"

"It is quite amazing," came the reply, working to keep his eyes on the mixture, and ultimately failing. His ears weren't the only thing turning pink at this point. "But what is its purpose?"

"Freezes all of those baddies the Inquisitor is so fond of poking," Dorian replied in a light voice, finger into the blue mixture and tapping the bare skin of Solas's neck gently. At once, a shiver ripped through him, a few ice crystals appearing on his skin. He put down the bowl instinctively.

"Powerful," he said, and Dorian chuckled, wiping away the ice crystals with warm fingers, which lingered there at his neck. Slowly, his eyes rose to find Dorian watching him, waiting for some sort of response, perhaps. A brush away? A pull? A step closer? He took that step closer, and Dorian's warm hand wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him up, closer, their noses touching softly. Solas hesitated, then put his hand on the man's shoulder, clutching it through the cloth that remained, pulling him in to close the gap.

Their lips met. Dorian made a noise, half of surprise and half of pleasure, the kiss warm, if brief. It was he that pulled away, just a small bit. "Take off your boots. Come to bed," he urged, and Solas simply nodded, hand falling from his shoulder. He was left standing there alone as Dorian turned to dress the bed, and he simply sat down on the floor and worked to remove his boots, and then his belts. He had made the mistake of sleeping with them on a few times, and was determined to never do that again.

When he stood back up, looking around, he found Dorian waiting for him at his bed, hair adorably mussed, and bare-chested. He gave Solas a light smile, and Solas returned it, taking those few steps to close the gap between them. Dorian's hand came to the elf's hip, tugging him closer, and Solas didn't try to resist it, nor did he want to.

"Do you hear that?" Solas wondered, his ears perking to some sound out of the window. Dorian pulled the elf closer, arms around his waist and cheek pressed to his navel. He closed his eyes, listening.

"Is that… singing?" Dorian wondered in a low tone, and for a few minutes, they just listened, Solas's fingers running through the hair that was usually so carefully sculpted.

"Maybe the tavern crowd is still awake?" Solas pondered, and Dorian shrugged.

"Its soothing, just as your presence is," came the soft reply, and Dorian shifted back into the bed, arms still wrapped around Solas. Solas didn't object, fingers staying in Dorian's hair, allowing the man to snuggle up to him, pull the blankets over them, and stroking his fingers back and forth along the small of his back.

"Sleep well, ma vhenan," Solas breathed a few minutes later, knowing that the man slept, and struggling to find that sleep for himself. Warm, comfortable… why was it so hard?


	3. Chapter 3

When he awoke in the morning, he found himself warm still, and Dorian's arms around him, his head on his chest. Carefully, Solas ran his fingers through his hair, and his head fell back to stare at the ceiling. The first traces of light were bouncing off the glass and walls of Skyhold, weaving stories across the weathered stone. How many others had laid where he was laying, looking at the same thing. He took in a deep breath, and the visions from the Fade, his journeys from the night before, swam before him.

Sleeping so close to a mage had made the Fade turbulent, more than normal. Dorian's own mind was wracked with fears, uncertainties, wants for his family, his homeland… Solas found it fascinating and distracting all at once. He had walked among the memories, seen Tevinter through his mind, his eyes and his heart. It was… eye-opening. Before, all that Solas had seen was through the minds of mostly his own people, long ago, and now—

Dorian stirred, drawing his mind back to the present.

"Look at how the morning fog makes the light dance to the tune of the morning mountain birds," Solas murmured, eyes back up and to the ceiling. Dorian shifted a little, eyes blinking to see what Solas referred to. "It moves across the stone as it has every day before, for as long as these walls have stood. That it will be there tomorrow, for us to see, is hope in a world gone mad."

"Hope?" Dorian wondered, finally finding his voice a moment later, but keeping it soft. His fingers danced gently across some skin that had been exposed at Solas's hip sometime in the night. "That light will continue to move across the stone long after we are gone, that madman defeated or not."

"Will it?" He wondered, fingers moving into his hair again. "If he succeeds, I severely doubt he will let such beauty to stand, even if the world somehow survives." He paused, and Dorian sat up a little, looking at him. He looked back, eyebrow raising. "And so, I relish in the small pleasures of this world while I still can."

"Is one of those pleasures waking up with the most handsome man in all of Thedas?"

The elf laughed, light. "It is one that I am not yet used to," he murmured, and Dorian leaned down to close the gap between them, kissing him warmly, but still softly like their first the night before. Their bodies pressed closer, and Solas ran his hands down the bare back of Dorian, who only responded with a small noise. The kiss continued, their bodies intertwining, well after the sun had risen.

"I hope you don't have anything particular planned for today," Dorian stated, lips moving to the elf's neck, fingers succeeding finally in removing his shirt.

"I am having trouble recalling if I did," Solas replied, fingers spreading as it moved against that tan skin, his chin tilting up at the man's tongue. His hips shifted a little, and Dorian noticed, hand gripping at his hip tightly, drawing in a breath.

"I can tell," he teased, deeply amused, biting at his neck lightly as he brought Solas's hips up and into his own. Solas shifted at the feeling of Dorian's length against his leg, and a rage of doubt swept through him.

A bang of a door hitting wood made them both jump. "Dorian! Get your things together, man, we—" The Inquisitor paused in the doorway, mouth half open. "We found some Venatori—figured you, ah…"

"Is that so?" Dorian said in a matter-of-fact tone, sitting up and letting the blanket fall off of them. He propped a leg up, arm across his knee, wiggling his nose and looking at the woman standing there with an amused expression. "Well, let's waste no time then."

"I…" She said, trailing off for a second, sharp eyes falling across Solas, whose head had fallen back, eyes closed, mouth moving silently in curses or prayers, she wasn't sure. Dorian's ruffled hair, both of their undone clothes… a thick fluster began moving up her from the neck up. "I can… just take someone else, no big deal right? Plenty more where those come from," she finished quietly, thumb jabbing back to out the door. "Hey, Solas. How's that research going?"

"Nowhere as ususal," he replied, hand raised in acknowledgement but not looking at her. "I would be happy to accompany you, lethallan."

"No… no hahren. You're clearly occupied," she said, and then grinned. He groaned a little, and Dorian glanced down at him, smiling as well.

"I think he means to say, 'please let's go kill things because it really gets my motor running.'"

"I said no such thing!" Solas said, sitting up a little as well, running a hand down his face and glaring at both of them.

"So… see you down at the gate in ten?" Lavellan wondered, eyebrows raised and grin not receding.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Dorian replied. "Just close the door behind you, would you? Best not to have everyone in the castle talking about this just yet." She made a face of determination and gave him a hearty salute before spinning out of the room, door closing behind her. The silence that followed was nearly damning. It ended with Dorian shifting, kissing Solas on the cheek very lightly. "If I was making you uncomfortable, Solas—"

"Its not—" He interrupted, head turning to kiss the man warmly, hand clutching his shoulder. "Its not that. Its… complicated. I'll work it out."

Dorian again made a small noise, hand on the elf's cheek. "We only have to do what you are comfortable with. I would never—"

"I know," came the quiet reply, and their foreheads pressed together, both taking in deep breaths. "We had people to kill, did we not?"

"I do enjoy that, yes," Dorian replied after a moment, and then he was up and over to his wardrobe, again pulling out his armour. Solas shifted to the side of the bed, tying closed his shirt before standing. He had to retie his breeches as well, and wonder when exactly Dorian had undone them. A sly fellow, apparently.

"I will meet you there," he said, head tilting slightly as he watched Dorian strap himself into that leather armour of his.

Dorian turned a little, eyes on him, and then fully. His fingers paused as he crossed the space between them, leaning down to kiss him warmly, not hesitating now, but body close to his. "Do try to contain your joy," he murmured with a smirk, and turned back to continue his work.

Solas's ears were pink, but then he had slipped away out into the hallway, doing his best to avoid the gaze of anyone he might meet. It was the absolute last thing he needed: to be assaulted everywhere he turned with servants whispering to each other, Sister Nightingale to wonder about his attentions or…

He shook his head clear. He had more important things to worry about than idle gossip. Nevertheless it made him wonder: did he care if people knew? He wasn't sure if there was even anything to truly know about just yet.

He felt better when his hands wrapped around the firm wood of his staff and he was leaning against the stone of Skyhold's gates, watching the surgeon attend to his patients. He spotted Cole sitting nearby, and he wore a small smirk. Their eyes met, and then Cole was beside him, head tilted up a little.

"I like how the light dances too," he said, voice slightly teasing, and Solas made an affronted noise, turning to him, but only finding receding laughter.


	4. Chapter 4

Solas slid down the hill behind Lavellan, Blackwall, and Dorian, and then all hid behind a large rock that blocked the view. Lavellan popped her head over the side, bow out in her hand and nose wiggling. "There they are," she whispered, eyes narrowing as she looked down at the Venatori below them, lounging. Beside her, Blackwall grunted, scratching a little at his beard. "How many?" She asked him.

"I count twelve heads," he muttered, making sure his sword was loose in its sheath.

"Me too," she said softly, tugging out an arrow and nocking it. It was all the three men needed. Dorian laughed softly in pleasure, sneaking down one side of the hill. Solas crept down the other, with Blackwall at his heels. The large man had already pulled his shield from his back, and slowly he came up beside the elf, smiling beside himself.

"No," Solas said, and Blackwall gave a light laugh.

"I didn't even get it out! How did you know I was going to even say anything?"

"I've seen you have that look before, like you did when you learned about Lavellan and the Commander."

"Ah… you're no fun Solas." Solas didn't reply as they ducked down into the long grass surrounding the camp, waiting for the Inquisitor's first arrow strike. "Well," he breathed, "as choices go, I can't deny that he's a good one."

"What do you mean?"

"Powerful family, strong mage bloodline, quite handsome… quick as a whip to keep up with you."

Solas smirked a little, staff changing hands. "It almost sounds like you're jealous, old friend."

"Of which one?" Blackwall wondered, drawing his blade now, ear to the camp, listening for the whistle.

"Of Dorian, of course," Solas murmured, and Blackwall grinned, shouldering his a little roughly, but Solas knew it was friendly. "But it seems you are out of luck."

"There's always Sera," he teased, and Solas laughed as the arrow struck the first of the foes, and he leapt out, freezing a line of three of the Venatori with a blast from his staff.

"I don't think you're her type!" He said loudly, setting another on fire as Blackwall shattered the Venatori-sicles with a loud grunt, and a laugh.

"I'm everyone's type!" Blackwall yelled back, stabbing the man behind him and yanking back out his sword, blood splattering over him. From the other side of the camp, they heard Dorian and Lavellan laugh. Dorian had abandoned simply setting them on fire and opted for stabbing them with spike of ice.

Lavellan snorted as she reached them, pulling out a knife and throwing it behind Solas, right over his shoulder. He didn't even have time to turn before he heard the gurgle, and he jumped a little, looking at the man falling to his knees. A slice of ice from the end of Solas's staff ended the struggle, and he retrieved her blade with a contemplative look. "It isn't right," she said mockingly, voice low to imitate Blackwall. Her other blade was out, and she stepped on another man's chest, ending his life with a stab through the ribs to his heart. "You could have no life with me."

Silence endured after that, and Solas and Dorian, on opposite sides of the camp, exchanged an uneasy look. Blackwall, however, stabbed his sword into the grass, bending down to relieve one of the dead Venatori of his gold. "You seem to have gotten over it," he said quietly, eyes down even as he stood again, bones audibly popping.

Solas's brow raised, eyes shifting from Lavellan, whose body language suggested thinly veiled rage, and Blackwall, who looked thoroughly… ashamed?

"Shut up! Just stop okay?"

Blackwall looked at her, crossing to her quickly. Dorian and Solas both took a few steps towards them, ready to intervene if necessary. She hardly needed protecting, but that wouldn't stop Solas from doing it. "Are you not happy? Is a relationship not what you wanted, Inquisitor? Does he treat you so poorly that you still have illusions about what we might have been?"

"You know that's not true!" She said loudly, staring up at him defiantly. "At least he's a man who stands up and knows his own feelings and doesn't make someone else make the hard decisions!"

"You're the Inquisitor for a reason," he stated, voice deep, but slightly raised. "You can do that. I'm a Warden; I'm hardly a leader."

"Lohgain could do it."

"You compare me to him? Is that the kind of man you want, hmm? A fallen general who—"

"Enough!" Dorian said, stepping up and between them, hands out to stop Blackwall from moving closer. He was scowling. "We get it! You both have feelings for each other yes? Lavellan here feels betrayed by your cowardice," he had to raise his voice at protests, "and Blackwall feels betrayed by our elf moving on." He pushed Blackwall back with a hand. "Get over it. You had your chance," he said, head tilting slightly to make his point, "and you blew it. Accept this, or leave."

Solas took a few steps closer, clutching to his staff for reassurance, eyes moving to each of them. He himself had chosen not to pursue a relationship with Lavellan, and while glad that he made that decision, he would never go so far as to accuse her for the deed. That was months ago now, and it was a mutual decision. His jaw tightened a little, but he didn't say a word. No matter what had occurred, he agreed with Blackwall: he could offer her no life worthy of her. After dealing with Corypheus, he would be gone once more, his duty fulfilled.

Perhaps he would go to Tevinter.

"Well?" Dorian wondered, eyes on Blackwall. They stared each other down for a long moment, before the bearded man grunted.

"I'm sorry, my lady," he said finally, lowering into a small bow. "Dorian is right, as are you. I'm being a coward to my own feelings. I care for you, and you have my sword, as long as you'll have it."

She looked down at him, chin tilting up a little. "I will always want your loyalty, and there is no man I would rather have with a sword watching my back," she said in a quiet voice. "Don't ever accuse me of making a decision you dislike when you refused to make it yourself."

"Of course," he said, eyes still low. She leaned forward and kissed his forehead warmly, whispering something to Blackwall that Solas couldn't hear. Slowly, Dorian made his way over to Solas, who was now standing a little up the hill, making sure nothing snuck up on them. The man came to stand beside him, making a small noise.

"We seem to have ruffled some feathers," he said after a moment, glancing back down at the pair below them.

"Unintentionally, perhaps," Solas replied, glancing down at them as well. He then returned his gaze back out to the forest. "Blackwall seems to think that we are a good fit."

"Does he? That's almost surprising," Dorian replied, his voice quiet, and Solas was taken aback a little to realize the man was being completely sincere. No games, no teasing. Dorian knelt down, staff stuck in the earth, watching the pair below them. "Do you feel sorrow for him?"

"Should I? True, he seems to be a good man, or he tries to be, but he wears his regret plainly on his face. He is a soldier, ma vhenan, and he has seen many battles. I wonder what he was before he came to the Wardens."

"I wonder as well. We haven't spoken at length, but maybe we should. He holds all his passion inside of him, does he not?"

"He does. You can see him about him as he moves."

"Is that what the Wardens do to people?"

"I have met a few wardens in my time, and Lohgain seemed to be no different. Concise, to the point, a general of renown from the war with Orlais… I must admit seeing him in the flesh rather than in the Fade made the whole experience seem…. I don't know. Odd. I can't think of another word for it."

"He didn't seem like a particularly cheerful fellow," Dorian agreed, running a finger along his moustache softly. "Probably could use a stiff drink."

"Probably, with what he now has to deal with."

Silence followed, and then Dorian looked up at Solas, eyebrows furrowed. "When the Inquisitor left Hawke to die—"

"You could feel it, couldn't you?" Solas whispered. Dorian hadn't been there in the Fade with them, but they had talked about the entire experience afterwards. "It wasn't until after, when I was exploring the memories of the experience, that I noticed it, though I suppose I noticed it all along. It was Anders, that Warden mage that Hawke was involved with. That spirit inside of him—I talked to Hawke a little about it while she was here—made an echo through the Fade." He paused, eyes down on Dorian as well. "Is that what you mean?"

Dorian was silent for a moment, considering. "It has to be. I don't want to be in the way of that abomination when he finally gets a hold of Lavellan for what happened."

Solas raised his eyebrows. "You think that he is coming here?"

"Wouldn't you?"

They stared at each other for a long moment.

"Yes," Solas said after a while, "for nothing less than an explanation. Then, if the explanation required my anger, than I would answer with it."

"You have more control than me," Dorian replied, breaking their eye contact to return to watching Lavellan and Blackwall. The pair were talking quietly now. "I would probably kill everyone who was there when you died, who let you die." He made a small noise, and Solas forgot to breathe. "There's always another way."

"Dorian," Solas said, and though Dorian didn't look up at him, he could still see that the man was smiling.

"Are you two love-birds quite done?" Dorian wondered, his voice back to being light and teasing. "Don't we have more of my countrymen to kill?"


	5. Chapter 5

The glass hit the wood with a thump, and Blackwall made a noise of derision. Dorian glanced at him, nursing his own drink with an eyebrow raised. "You didn't have to step in," Blackwall said in a low gruff voice.

"You're kidding, I hope. You did heavily imply that Loghain was better suited for her than Cullen."

"I fucking did," he replied, pressing his head to the wood of the bar. "What was I thinking? I… I have no chance now."

"Did you have one before?" Dorian wondered, pressing the subject a little. Beside him, the bearded man let out an enormous sigh.

"I met her up in her room after we visited that old ruin."

"I remember that one. I've never seen a more awkward conversation in my life."

Another heavy sigh. "I kissed her. Told her I only wanted to be with her but… but I'm a Warden. She would have no life with me. So I left the decision to her."

"… and she ended it?" Dorian wondered, watching as the barkeep poured another round into the dejected man's glass.

"Yeah," he said, raising up his head just enough to drain his new drink. Beside him, Dorian drank a little of his own; he, however, had no desire to be drunk, surprisingly enough. He actually wanted to remember tonight.

"But you must have had other women through your travels. You did travel alone for over ten years, yes? What happened to them?"

"I also never used to stay in one place for long," Blackwall replied after a long minute, sitting back up again and looking mournfully into his empty glass. "If I found a woman, it would be a few days and then I would leave again. Never got attached. Couldn't. Wouldn't let myself. When I joined the Inquisition… this is the longest I've been in the same place, around the same people in over a decade."

"Its good to have friends, Blackwall, right? Someone to watch your back and all that?"

"Yeah, yeah," Blackwall said, finally looking at Dorian. "Shit. I didn't mean to keep you from Solas. Or your research. Or… whatever it is you do."

"Actually I think this is the first time you haven't been lobbing insults at me," Dorian said with a slight smirk, and Blackwall barked a laugh.

"Its not that I don't like you, Dorian. I do. You're alright. For a privledged arse."

"Ah, there it is! I wondered when it would come!" Dorian exclaimed happily, downing the rest of his drink in a single gulp and slapping the man on the back. "Get something in your stomach, stubborn ass, or you'll be feeling it in the morning."

"Oh, is that personal experience there talking?"

"You know it is," Dorian replied, standing from his place at the bar. He gave a salute over to Bull, who was talking with his crew, and to his surprise, Bull called him over. He raised his eyebrows but strode over. Dalish and Sera were sitting and playing cards on a barrel, Grim was tearing up something with a knife, and Bull himself was holding the biggest tankard Dorian had ever seen. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Krem trying to serenade the bard. "What's up big man?"

"I heard that Solas left your chambers early this morning, and so I told Bull," Sera said, not looking up from her game of cards.

"And _I_ think still that your man heard it wrong," Bull said, looking around at Sera, who shrugged.

"Whatever right? But just look at the Vint's face. You know its true! It has to be!"

Everyone paused what they were doing to look at Dorian, who somehow managed a smirk. "Is it that unbelievable?" He wondered, fingers to his moustache, and Grim took in a deep, harsh breath, staring up at him. "Is it really now? Why? Do you think I can do better?"

"Actually, I just didn't think that the elf went that way. Not that I care. I just usually can read people a little better."

"He means, 'oh shite look at that I didn't know some creepy things about people before they knew it themselves,'" Sera mocked, turning back to her game. "Surprised the shite out of me too, to be honest."

"What, that Solas loves a hot Tevinter mage or that I didn't know something about someone?"

"Both," Sera said without hesitation, setting down a card.

Bull sighed, looking up at Dorian. "I didn't want to assume because I heard a rumour." He paused, leaning forward a little. "When I heard you two flirting, I assumed it wasn't anything. You making fun of the elf with a stick up his ass," Bull said in a low tone, smirking at his own joke. "Just be careful, alright? Elf gives me a weird vibe at times. Can't place it."

Dorian finally got away a few minutes later, and he made his way back up to the keep, more than a little bit exhausted by the day, but determined not to show it. He passed through Solas's study on his way up to his room, and was not disappointed as the elf followed him.

Solas kept an eye up at the man's ass as they walked up the steps, which, once Dorian noticed, began to sway without shame. He chuckled, and Dorian smirked, opening the door up to his room. Solas promptly closed it behind them, and then found himself pressed to the door, a moustache tickling his neck. He didn't giggle, or chuckle, because he always insisted he wasn't ticklish, but instead just set a hand into Dorian's hair.

"Did you miss me?" He wondered, and the man made a noise in response.

"Actually I was dogged the entire time at the tavern about us," Dorian said in a low voice before he bit Solas's neck. "Quite the scandal, apparently." Solas's hands came to his shoulders, pushing him away just a little, just enough to look him in the eyes, frowning slightly.

"What happened? What did they say?" Dorian looked back at him, a look of exposed emotion showing for a moment before it was replaced by an easy smile.

"Oh you know the usual," he said, turning to start taking off his armour. "'I didn't know Solas was into that' and 'is it really true' and all sorts of rot," he continued with a snort, glancing at Solas. He was frowning, eyes quickly calculating. "Nothing we can't handle, Solas," he said, trying to be reassuring.

"Rumors do spread quite quickly here," Solas said quietly, taking off his bag and setting it down beside the worktable before beginning to remove his boots. "I honestly didn't think anyone had seen me."

"Lavellan saw you, and apparently a servant, because Sera knew all about you leaving this morning."

"Sera," he hissed with much venom, eyes narrowing down at his boots.

Dorian laughed lightly, rolling his shoulders as they were free of leather. "Solas… its alright. Isn't it?"

Solas had to take a moment to gather his emotions and keep them in check. He used that time to remove his boots carefully and set them neatly next to the worktable. "Yes, of course. Apologies, ma vhenan." He stood back up, and Dorian was behind him, arms around his waist, and Solas clutched to him quietly.

"You are alright?" The man wondered after a moment, feet shifting him closer. "You don't…" He trailed off, and Solas leaned his head back, eyes closed as his head rested against his shoulder.

"It's wonderful," he murmured, smile dancing across his lips. "As are you."

"Ooh," Dorian rumbled softly, head tilting down to kiss at his neck again. "Tell me more about me."

Solas chuckled, and was quiet for a moment as he enjoyed the sensation and thought of how to phrase his adoration. "When you state your love for me in unconventional ways, it catches me off guard. You fix your hair after I run my fingers through it." He paused, a hand traveling up to run through his hair, and Dorian grinned against his skin. "You study in history, search for the truth as you know I do. Your tan skin, love of the hot, and humid, yet continuing to live here—your love for your homeland—" Dorian quieted him with a deep kiss, fingers on his chin to achieve it. Solas took in a deep breath, turning a little more to meet it.

"I couldn't leave now," Dorian murmured a few seconds later, eyes down as he worked to take off Solas's belt. It was off in a matter of seconds. "Not with the world to save."

"Is that the only reason," Solas wondered, shrugging off his vest without a second's thought, and he took in a deep breath as Dorian's hands slipped up his shirt, running along his sides.

"One of many," he replied quietly, taking a small step towards the bed, which Solas matched, fingers dancing across his shoulders. "But not, I admit, the one at the forefront of my mine as of late."

"And which reason is that, then?" Solas wondered, taking another step towards Dorian's bed.

"Is that rhetorical?" Dorian wondered, laughing softly, pushing him towards the bed and down onto it. He disappeared from the elf's lips, lifting up his shirt to kiss at his stomach warmly. Solas took in a deep breath, hand in Dorian's hair pausing, and then tugged very softly. Dorian's eyes flashed up to his, a look of half amusement and half caution there. "Its all you, my dear rabbit," he rumbled happily, fingers trailing down to untie his breeches, carefully. His eyes glanced down, but then returned to the elf's. "Tell me if you want to stop," he whispered, and waited until Solas nodded before he actually began tugging down his breeches. "These things need to go, in any case."

"They're practical," Solas said defensively.

"Practical does not mean drab, rabbit. Is my armour not practical?" He wondered, hands tugging the elf up to remove the breeches completely (and then dropping them in disgust).

"All of those straps aren't," Solas said with a slight frown, causing the man to come and kiss him warmly, hands tightening on his hips.

"I am quite strapping, afterall," he murmured against his lips with a smirk, "and you know that you love it."

"I do quite enjoy seeing you out of it," Solas conceded, tugging at his hair again, causing Dorian to groan softly.

"That's almost unfair," he murmured after a moment of their kiss deepening, hips pressing together. Solas laughed softly, tugging again, a little firmer this time. "You're a terrible tease."

"I'm the tease?" Solas wondered. "You were the one who was—"

"You're right," Dorian interrupted, and he dropped down again to kiss at his chest, slowly working his way down to his stomach. Solas's muscles tightened at the feeling, and he took in a deep breath, fingers finding Dorian's hair once more, feeling and watching him descend. He was being painfully slow, taking his time, savouring every lick. Solas raised his hips a little, involuntarily, as Dorian's tongue paused just above the base of his shaft, and their eyes found each other.

It was then that Solas realized Dorian was wanting his… permission. He was being careful, knowing it was all new to him, and Solas found another warm feeling spread through him that had nothing at all to do with arousal. "Don't stop, ma vhenan," he murmured, causing Dorian to smile. His tongue drew up slowly, fingers following warmly, until he reached his tip. Here, his eyes dropped closed, and pulled the whole of his shaft inside him, hand holding his hip to keep him from moving too quickly. Solas simply moaned instead, nails now moving through his hair, down the back of his neck, and back up.

Dorian then tugged his hip up in a quick move, drawing him further in, and Solas responded with another deep moan, fingers clutching to him, hips up before helped back down again by Dorian, and falling into a steady rhythm. Solas lost himself to the pleasure, head back as he focused on the sensations, fingers constantly running through Dorian's soft hair to remind himself of who it was there…. And it only made him harder, and harder to keep control of himself.

"Vhenan," he murmured, eyes back on him. His entire body had shifted, and even in the semi-darkness of the dim room he could see Dorian's pleasure plain in the shape of the seat of his breeches… and the discoloration there. His eyes flick open, up on his in a silent question as he pauses in the movements. "I'm almost…"

The smile that was met with was priceless, and Dorian didn't resume his movements and pleasuring just yet. Instead, a hand slipped under Solas, and a finger found his ass quickly. Dorian kept Solas's eyes with his as he slowly pressed a finger into him.

His entire body tightened in response, but it wasn't an entirely unpleasant sensation, and, as Dorian tested his luck by slowly picking up the pace of that finger, he relaxed into the movements. It sent a new wave of pleasure through him as he adjusted, and he groaned in response, head thrown back again, having to work to keep in his pleasure now. He wanted the release—but he didn't want the pleasure to stop.

The first finger was joined by a second, and at this Solas couldn't keep it in anymore; his heat poured into Dorian, whose movements paused as he deftly swallowed, tongue moving to lick him clean, before his lips moved from around his shaft and to his chest. Eyes up on him, his fingers started fucking him again, other hand clenching at his hip.

Solas took a moment to catch his breath, finding it hard, but he did. His eyes were then down on Dorian's, and he smiled at the man's look. "Fucking amazing," he breathed out, and Dorian grinned, pausing for a second as he leaned up to kiss him deeply. Their tongues met, and Solas could taste the saltiness rolling across his own tongue.

"Do you wish me to stop?" Dorian wondered, palm coming up, rubbing against his sack warmly, but fingers not moving inside of him.

"Never," Solas murmured in response, licking at his cheek. "But—"

"Shush, rabbit," he cut off quickly, perhaps knowing what he was thinking. "It's a long night."


End file.
